Jan's Story

Even now, laying in the tub after nearly two hours of self-manipulation; I still couldn't resist indulging in the fantasy and stroking my painfully sore, swollen cunt. How could I ever rationalize this behavior? I know what it was leading me into, and though I should have been fighting the terrible taboo, I was really hoping for a path to make it real.

It occurred to me that Dave's story and our sex-filled talks just kick-started the incestuous fantasies I must have had. I had fucked my own ass with my fingers, pleading in my mind for my son to rape me. All the while I was practically tasting the cum that his magnificent cock was thrusting down my throat. As I swallowed lovingly of this wonderful, salty, but imaginary cream; my pussy again convulsed and blended my warm internal juices with the hot soapy water. I was totally spent and frighteningly captivated. I didn't want this fantasy to stop. My sheltered upbringing caused a moral dilemma in me, but these new and exciting images were overwhelming. There had to be some way to reconcile the mixed emotions.

As the bath water cooled, my guilt returned. "What the hell am I thinking? I'm having fantasies of sex with my son." It should be a bitter revelation but it wasn't, my emotions were stirring. I shivered as I looked at my shaved, reddened snatch. "Gawd, I'm way past dreams. I'm actually contemplating fucking my kid!" Only the guilt was holding me back. But I could get beyond that, I guessed. If I could somehow convince myself that I am powerless to resist. Like I was part of that "future world" of his. "It would only be natural for me to follow his orders, afterall I would be his slave..."

When my strength returned and the shaking subsided, I shuffled back to the bedroom and sat down with my computer. A new idea had occurred to me. Davey had invited me, even dared me, to read his teasing work as if luring me into a trap. He asked me about my tits and graded me against centerfold models. And he must have guessed that I was intrigued, by my answering him and tempting or playing with him. He wanted me to know that he was interested in a taboo, sexual situation with his mother. And since I wasn't instantly revolted, I helped to lead him on. I needed to find a way to assure him that I was not insulted or disappointed with him, but actually alittle fascinated with the notion. It came to me with my last thrilling climax in the tub. I could envision my fantasy Master controlling me. It excited me, brought me to multiple orgasms, and was lucid and shocking enough for me to describe in print. And that's what I would do. I'll write a follow-up to his story and show him that his "fantasy Mom" enjoys the thought of unbridled sex and subservience with her "futuristic Lord and Master."

It took a few minutes to bolster my courage and I hesitantly plunked each key, knowing that I was signaling to my son, that it was okay for him to have thoughts and desires about fucking me. I was about to grant permission and admit to being a willing, sexual submissive to Davey's dominance of my "slutty" body. In no uncertain terms, I spelled-out my rape fantasy to my son.

The character of "Jan" in my story, expressed to her Master, that she ceded all control to him. "I dream of tasting the milky fluid of your essence. The burning passion of my cunt can only be quenched by your huge, thick cock. I offer my virgin ass to you Master, as a symbol of my hunger and desire." My writing was not as stylish or sensual as his, but I wanted there to be no doubt that "Jan's" admission was true and sincere.

I went on in the same vein, assuring "Master Dave" that Jan needed to be fucked and wanted to be dominated. The explicit wording and the implicit thoughts that they conveyed, brought the delightful tingle to my vagina again. In a total reversal of my previous debauchery; I quickly closed my version of the future, and scrambled back to my bed to physically recreate some of the scenes that I had described. By now, I felt that I had become a part of this "future" and would easily accede to the notion of submissiveness to my son, I dreamed of him raping me, and every kinky thought brought-on a delicious orgasm. My pussy was tiring of my own fingers, and yearning to be stretched-out by my son's firm tool. If this didn't work, I guess the next step would be crotchless panties or bondage mags. Or maybe just a wake-up hummer. I was getting desperate. I needed to get the message across without him thinking that his mother was a complete slut.

For the next few long days, I nervously pretended everything was normal between us. A very casual-seeming mother/son relationship. Though I wore tighter sweaters or more sheer blouses, and kept my bras in the lingerie drawer. My big tits swayed and bounced with every step and I wore sexy, tight shorts and fuck-me pumps. Whenever I shaved my long legs, I also took care to sweep all the dark, curly hairs of my cunt. I even asked him once, if I could browse through his dirty magazines and see kiddingly, if I was hot enough to measure with those 40ish models on display. Many times I caught his eyes ogling my bouncy tits, or his hand constantly adjusting the obvious bulge in his jeans. He often mentioned how sexy I looked and that "somebody should scoop me up and keep me for their own."

I would joke with him that "I was too much woman for some 40 year old." Or that it would take a daring young stud "to truly capture my sexuality." And I made more of a point to rub my legs between his when we hugged, or to rake my nails down his spine when I passed by. When sharing the couch I would seductively rub against him, letting my soft boobs brush his arm or even plop right down on his lap asking for a shoulder rub or for him to brush my long locks. I would gently but firmly grind my plump bottom into his pelvis and pretend I didn't notice his straining cock poking between my jiggly cheeks. I felt the warmth of his arms around me and could sense the change in breathing as he timidly fondled me.

And I imagine that he could sense a change in me. At every occasion I would squirm in his grasp or moan softly at his touch. And I tried everything to be close to him. I allowed him liberties to pat my bottom and let his hand linger or nearly cup my breast when we snuggled.

I often gave him a sly smile or purred at his dirty talk. I also mentioned "something" about his blog.

A couple more days of my teasing, and I was finally rewarded. He said he was going to his room to do some "writing." I tip-toed to a spot outside his door where I could hear the muffled grunts of passion and the tell-tale slap of wet flesh on flesh. Even as I listened, my own hand had snaked it's way into my panties and massaged my swelling clit. I didn't have time to finish when I heard his computer fire-up. I hustled to my room and jumped on to his site, fingering my moist pussy as I waited in fervid anticipation. It seemed to take forever, but finally another volume appeared. It was terse and less florid than the others.

But it's tone left no ambiguity. Master was lecturing his obedient mother/slave. "Jan," he commanded, "I want you to bare your magnificent breasts and kneel before me. You will make love to my cock with your sexy, full lips and when my rod is sufficiently ready and lubed, I will fuck your slutty throat until you wallow in my seed." My cunt was tingling and reaching it's boiling point as I read. I tugged my flimsy top over my head exposing my heaving boobs and diamond-hard nipples. My undies were shimmied down my shapely thighs and kicked to the side. There I stood in all my submissive, ashamed "glory." I took a shallow breath and whispered a quick prayer. Now or never. I stumbled across the hall wiping my sweaty hands on my legs and tripping on the rug. I ran my hands through my hair and licked my lips, then I slowly gripped the handle of the door with both trembling hands.

I took a brief moment to control my breathing and regain my composure. My naked pussy shimmered in the dull light and my tits ached for his two strong hands to grab them. I gently knocked on his bedroom door, standing there nude and anxious, knowing the next step I was about to take. "Honey, it's your Mom. May I show you something?" I felt the door open and took a deep breath...

The end.

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